Coming to a Head
by SMKLegacy
Summary: Grissom receives an inheritance. Response to the July 4, 2005 Unbound Improv Challenge.


**Coming to a Head**

TEASER: Grissom receives an inheritance. Response to the 7-4-05 Unbound Improv Challenge.

RATING: T for implied sexual situations.

SPOILERS: Through Season 5.

DISCLAIMERS: In my dreams, I'm wealthy enough to make Bruckheimer, et al., an offer they can't refuse. Alas, this dream has not yet come true, so nothing except what little plot there may be here belongs to me, and I'm not making any money from that, either.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Reviews appreciated, archived at my site, and don't worry, be happy. First and last lines given, 1000 word limit for the story itself; according to MS Word 2003, I made it with 97 words to spare.

**CSI CSI CSI**

"**She's a wimp."** Sara pointed at Catherine's retreating back as the other woman ran toward the ladies' room as fast as she could.

"We all have our breaking point, Sara," Grissom chided, though he was tempted to laugh at Catherine himself. "You did see Nick, Warrick, and Greg give me a wide berth when I carried this in here, right?"

Sara's laugh washed over him, and once again he wondered why he denied himself what he had wanted since the day he met her.

She sat down in the guest chair. "Tell me about the late Professor Jenson."

"He was an amazing teacher," he said, leaning back in his chair. He took his glasses off and twirled them between his fingers before he stuck an earpiece in his mouth and spoke around it. "He epitomized Anatole France's ideal: 'The whole art of teaching is only the art of awakening the natural curiosity of young minds for the purpose of satisfying it afterwards.'"

"What did he teach?"

"Believe it or not, philosophy."

Sara laughed again. This time, he vowed not to let her leave his office without asking her to dinner. He owed her that, at least, and himself, too.

"That's not what I would have guessed, given his legacy to you."

He smiled. "I doubt many people would guess that. I suppose not many people would guess that my other major was philosophy."

"Oh, I can see that easily. You epitomize Henry Miller's thought that, 'Any genuine philosophy leads to action and from action back again to wonder, to the enduring fact of mystery.' Why else would you be a scientist?"

"Is that why you're a scientist, Sara?"

She nodded. "Yes. I liked philosophy enough to minor in it, but physics really caught my attention because there's still so much we don't know, and every time we figure something out, it opens up another realm of questions."

"So why criminalistics?"

Sara cocked her head and raised her eyes to the ceiling as though in search of an answer. After a moment, she looked into his eyes with a soft smile that eased every tension line in her face and made him want to lean across the desk and kiss her with the passion of every fantasy he had ever had of her.

"You."

Now he really wanted to kiss her. "Me?"

"You." Her smiled broadened. "I went to your first lecture at Harvard because I was curious to see what you might say about the physics of insect flight. I went back to the next nine because you gave me a way to make a difference in people's lives on a daily basis."

He deflated a little. "Oh." He bit down on his earpiece a little too hard, wincing at the crunch but relaxing when he realized that no extraneous pieces of plastic had fallen off. "Is that the only reason you came back?"

Sara sighed and wiped her hand over her face. "Grissom, I'm not doing this again."

"Let's go to dinner." The words were out of his mouth before he could think of anything to preface them with, and all he could do was hold his breath and wait for her answer.

"Dinner? Or a date?"

He smiled. "A date. Definitely a date."

"Why?"

_How honest should I be?_ His silence must have lasted too long for her. She pushed herself out of the chair and was at the door before he could stop her. "Because I should have said yes two years ago!"

She turned. "Why didn't you?"

"I was scared."

"Are you scared now?"

"A little."

"What's the difference?"

He pointed at the jar on the corner of his desk. "My curiosity has overcome most of my fears and now I want to satisfy myself."

Sara laid her arm along the door frame in a pose so provocative all he could do was stare. "Your curiosity?"

"Desire, too." He cringed at the squeak in his voice as he envisioned her stretched out naked in his bed under him.

"Good answer. Tonight?"

He took a big risk. "How about breakfast tomorrow, too?"

She didn't have to answer for him to know his offer pleased her. She licked her lips and stretched up a little more, showing creamy skin at her waist that he wanted to taste then and there. "Sounds delicious. Just leave him here, would you?" She pointed at the jar on his desk.

"The professor? I wouldn't dream of taking him home. He specifically wanted to be in a laboratory environment."

She laughed, this time a low, throaty sound that sent a shiver of arousal up his spine. "Seven o'clock. Don't be late." She slid down the door and waltzed away, a spring in her step that sent every drop of blood in his body to one piece of prime real estate.

After several moments to collect his control and to process the fact that Sara Sidle would be in his bed making love with him later that night, Grissom turned the jar so he could look into the preserved eyes of Professor George Jenson through the formaldehyde. "Thanks, Doc."

Professor Jenson's head didn't answer, just turned slowly in the liquid as Grissom picked up the jar and set it gently on the shelf behind his desk.

A few minutes later, he was ready to leave. **Grissom gave his a head a nod as he shut the door.**

**--Fin--**


End file.
